


A Weight To Carry

by Raepocalypse



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Balance Arc, Fluff, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, lup isn't here but there's Implications, pre-stolen century setting, rated t for implied spiciness but they don't actually get spicy, very short i'm sorry but this was what was In My Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raepocalypse/pseuds/Raepocalypse
Summary: Taako was never made for soulmates, nevermind the fact that he's got two marks. Does it really matter, though, when they're both dead?(Fluffy taakitz soulmate au. Not as angsty as it sounds I swear)





	A Weight To Carry

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short, semi-sweet soulmate fic. I have a soulmate AU Thing and I needed to feed it. Hope you guys enjoy this one while I keep working on the longer Band AU. I said it in the tags but like. This is rated T for Implied Spiciness but they don't actually get there in this one. Sorry guys

Multiple soul marks were far more common in the long lived races. Most often, they meant that the soulmate they met first would die and they would move on and find another. They were relatively unseen on humans. It made things a little more complicated, though, that you were born with those marks. Istus didn’t wait for your partner to be born to mark you for them. 

Taako had had two for as long as he could remember, and for much of that time, they were both scarred over. He couldn’t remember the pain people talked about when you lost a soulmate. He couldn’t remember ever meeting them, although he had been assured by  _ many _ terribly nosy people that it was uncommon for a soulmate to die before ever completing the bond. He couldn’t remember when the pain lanced through him, he couldn’t remember seeing vibrant color one moment and scar tissue the next. He just knew that once upon a time, there was color in the mongooses that were curled around one another on his arm, wreathed in flame and purple sparks that had to be magic. These days, he couldn’t even remember what  _ color _ the mark on his hip was, the little music note with a scythe as it’s stem. 

He couldn’t remember any of it and so, as far as he was concerned, soulmates were not for him. He didn’t like the idea of being tied to anyone anyway, honestly. He didn’t like thinking that he was stuck with anyone for life. He didn’t like thinking that anyone was going to die on him, hurt him just by not existing anymore, even though that’s what  _ had _ to have happened for the marks on his body to be the pale, fragile lines they were. 

Sometimes, when he was up late at night and couldn’t get his mind to calm down, he would run his fingers over them and try to imagine the people on the other end of that connection. 

He’d always had an odd sort of kinship with mongooses, though he couldn’t say exactly why in a way anyone seemed to understand. He assumed, fairly so, that it had to be a man because he only liked men, and they had to have been meant as lovers. Platonic soulmates were  _ highly _ uncommon and Taako couldn’t see himself getting attached to a person he couldn’t fuck. (He could barely see that much.) Honestly, the fact that he had one soulmate was astounding and two was downright baffling. 

Part of him wanted to say no one deserved get to have him anyway. Another, softer and more fragile part of him, reminded him that no one deserved to  _ have _ to have him. He silenced that part and buried it under bravado. Like he always did. Like he always had. Like he always would. 

He wondered if the person on the other side of the mongoose mark had been like him. He wondered if they would have fought often. He didn’t think he’d like being with someone who was too much like him. Personalities that big never worked out when they were together. (He remembered that from his time with Sazed.)

The other mark was more unsettling, almost threatening with the nastiness of the blade. That wasn’t something for show, for defense, it was for killing. Nothing about it necessarily said so, but he could feel it, like the ink was as sharp against his skin as the blade would be. It was hard to make out details, just the odd feeling of what might be feathers ingrained into the blade. He’d puzzled over it when he was younger, but later in life, he’d abandoned the idea that he might trust them and stopped looking into it. Besides, even if he learned anything about them, he was never going to meet them. They were dead. 

Typically, it was good manners not to comment on someone’s soul marks if they didn’t belong to you. Taako was actually amazing at that part because he didn’t care. He’d wondered briefly about the scar on Magnus’s chest, massive and knotted and almost looking like something from a battle in the brief moment he’d seen it the first time. The next time he spotted it, he could see that it was huge and intricate and it felt like a little much for him to even try and look closer at something that was so encompassing. 

Taako didn’t keep people around that couldn’t keep their mouths shut about his scars. Magnus and Merle had looked like they might say something once about the mongooses, when he’d gotten his mask in Goldcliff, but he’d glared them into silence effectively. That mark, though, never seemed to be a problem for lovers he took. It wasn’t in an intimate spot, which meant they didn’t have to look at it when they were  _ being _ intimate. 

The one on his hip presented problems sometimes. He’d kicked his fair share of men out of bed when they did more than pause to look at it and move on. 

He’d really hoped for better with Kravitz. 

He’d really hoped that, after they’d had a handful of dates (really, really pleasant dates) that he would be one of the ones he could keep around. Besides, he was death. He had to be better about these things. 

He’d really hoped. 

Then, with his shirt off and cool lips on his skin, travelling down and down and down, there was a pause. Taako had been planning out getting Kravitz out of his clothes and into his bed for a hot minute now and there was no  _ pausing _ involved in the plan. 

“Taako?” he asked, pulling back a little. That voice wasn’t sexy. It was breathless, but in what felt like the wrong way. It was hesitant and unsure and almost hopeful. 

The elf opened his eyes irritably and looked down. “What?” he demanded. He frowned heavier when he saw the man’s red eyes locked on the delicate little mark on his skin. “ _ What _ ?”

Kravitz looked up, mouth open, eyes wide. “I- You didn’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Taako demanded. “I had one -  _ two _ . I had two, you’ve seen the mark on my arm. They’re both dead. Is this really what you want to talk about right now?” Not that they were going to have any chance at all of getting back to where they were. Not now. Not now that Kravitz had ruined  _ everything _ with his big, dumb, handsome mouth. 

He looked down again, lips pressed together, and his hand hovered over the mark. 

“Don’t,” Taako snapped, jerking away from him and snatching at his shirt, trying to jerk it back on. “I thought you’d be cool about this. You’re  _ death _ for fuck’s sake. You’re-”

“I’m dead,” Kravitz interrupted. He made no move to stop Taako from putting his clothes back on, no move to trap him, but he didn’t give him space either. That was, at this point in knowing the reaper, enough to give him pause. He fixed him with a wary glare and pulled his shirt on, waiting for him to continue. 

“I’m dead.”

“You said that, bone daddy, get to the point.”

“I’m- Taako, I’m  _ dead _ . I’m- I’m the Raven Queen’s emissary. I- I had a life once, you know? I had a life once and I was a bard. Taako, Music was my life once. The Raven Queen is my life now. And I am  _ dead _ .” 

They stared at each other for a long moment. Kravitz still had his shirt off, but the expanse of dark skin was, for once, not distracting in the least. “What are you trying to say?” Taako demanded, because he wasn’t putting together what was being said. The strange wave of grief that overtook him when he thought too hard about his scarred over marks was muddling his head. He was angry and confused and chilly in a way he usually liked from Kravitz’s touch. 

“Bear with me,” he said. “For just a moment. I think- I think you’ll understand if I just show you.”

“Show me  _ what _ ?” Taako snapped. His patience, thready at the best of times, was running dangerously thin. He almost shoved Kravitz off the bed when he started fumbling for the fly of his own pants. “Are you fucking  _ kidding _ me, thug? You’re about to whip out your dick when we’re having a fucking fight? Are you- Gods,  _ stop _ , I’m not going to fuck you now no matter how far down you get your pants! Kravitz, I’m not-”

The man looked up from where he had pushed his trousers down and twisted his leg awkwardly. “Will you just stop and  _ look _ ? Taako, please.”

Furious, but with just barely enough trust in him to comply, Taako looked down where Kravitz’s hand was framing a swath of skin on his thigh, turning it to show him. All at once, his anger melted away and very suddenly, his breath left his chest. 

Right there, staring back up at him, was a wooden spoon about the length of his index finger, brilliant purple sparks trailing off it’s end that were very obviously meant to be magic. Without thinking, he reached out, hand hovering over the mark that he knew in his very  _ core _ was his, was meant for him. 

“I thought it was you,” Kravitz said softly. “I thought it was you… eventually, I should say. I’m- I thought, maybe, it was you after I saw you transmute while you were cooking dinner last week, but I wasn’t…” He fell abruptly silent as Taako pressed a hand to the mark, sucking in a sharp breath. 

Unlike the rest of him, the mark was warm to the touch, almost burning in a pleasant way. Like pulling a fresh loaf of bread from the oven and holding it for almost too long, or taking a hot shower on a freezing day and feeling steam roll off of your body. The little spoon burned itself into his palm and more than before, he knew it was his. He could feel it washing through him, some magic that made him feel warm and safe and cared for in a way he could barely remember feeling before. 

He didn’t notice Kravitz moving closer until his hand started to fall away, unable to reach as the man pushed him to his back and slid his shirt up again. This time, there wasn’t anything about it that made Taako want to rip his clothes off, although Kravitz’s pants were still bunched up around his thighs. 

The cool fingers traced around the scar on his skin and then across it. Every little contact with the thin lines burned through him the same way it had when he pressed his palm to the wooden spoon. It was overwhelming, drawing Taako down into a confused but somehow comfortable place and making him feel like he was falling, falling, falling without ever trying to even catch himself. 

Kravitz pressed his lips to the scar and without knowing it was coming, Taako burst into tears. He didn’t know exactly what it was that did it, maybe a combination of things, but then he was covering his face with both hands and trying not to sob into his palms. 

Kravitz pulled back abruptly and there was a pause, a rustling of clothes as he pulled his pants back up, then Taako was wrapped up in his arms again. He allowed himself to be bundled up, both of them wrapped up in the blankets around them and his face buried against his boyfriend’s cold skin. 

“I suppose feeling like I am perhaps falling in love is much more understandable now,” he mused softly. His fingers carded through Taako’s hair, lips brushing his forehead as he spoke. Taako didn’t stop crying, but he warbled a wet laugh. There was a smile in his voice when Kravitz spoke again, trying to jar him out of his fit of tears. “I know it hasn’t been long, but I really think we have something. Why are you laughing? I’m trying to confess my undying love. I mean, it’s a little bit dying, because I’m dead already, but the love part. It’s pretty not-dead.”

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Taako finally grumbled, his tears slowing down even though his voice was still thick with them. “I- I don’t even- I guess I just- I never thought I was going to meet… you?” He never thought he’d meet either one, really, but sometimes, when he let himself think about all of this, when he let his mind drift to the mark on his arm, he felt hollow, like something in him was scooped out. Like he wasn’t whole without whoever that mark belonged to. 

Kravitz didn’t press him on it, just held him close and rubbed cold hands over his back. It shouldn’t be comforting, but it was  _ him _ , and the blankets were capturing Taako’s body heat enough that it wasn’t uncomfortable. He wondered when he started craving contact. He wondered when he started wanting to cuddle up against another person. More accurately, he wondered when he started allowing himself to admit it, even in his own head.

“Hey, Krav?” he asked softly, once he’d calmed down enough that his breath didn’t hitch around tears anymore. 

“Mm?” came the slightly sleepy reply, though the hand was still moving up and down his back. Gentle fingers are tracing nothing patterns and keeping him pressed close against him. 

Taako hesitated, dragging it out into almost awkwardness. He knew that if he didn’t say anything at all, if he pretended he fell asleep even though they both know he’s never needed it, that Kravitz would let it go without argument.

He wanted to tell him he loved him. He wanted to tell him he was glad he found him. He wanted to say how grateful he was to the Raven Queen that she took him as an emissary, that they would meet so long after Kravitz died. He wanted to say a lot of things. 

In the end, he didn’t say any of those things, or anything else, because he’s just brave enough to admit he’s a coward. Instead, he found the hand that wasn’t trailing sweetly over his skin and laced their fingers. He pressed a kiss to the nearest patch of skin, what turned out to be somewhere along the other’s shoulder. He closeed his eyes and allowed himself to sink slowly into meditation. 

“Me too,” the voice above him murmured, almost too quietly to hear.

He didn’t  feel lighter, per se, but he didn’t  feel like he was being weighed down by his life anymore. The soulmarks were still there, still a heaviness on him that he’s always known he would ever be able to escape, but for the first time he can remember, it was... comfortable. 

He wouldn’t mind carrying this weight. 


End file.
